


Cold Morning

by ice_cream_assassin



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_cream_assassin/pseuds/ice_cream_assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Mandelborne one night stand. Angst With Peter being very cold towards George in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Morning

**Author's Note:**

> My experiment with writing Mandelborne.

Like so many times before, Peter was taken with that vulnerable sense George put off when he let his guard down. And his defenses were definitely lowered, sitting at the bar drinking another pint. Unlike previous times, Peter gathered his courage, approaching George, wanting to offer a sympathetic ear.

Eurogeddon was nearing; George had a double-dip recession on his plate and restless backbenchers. Peter was all too aware of the cruelty politics can inflict sometimes. 

"I’m here trying to obliterate myself in pints of lager. What do you want from me?" No bitterness. Just that sad, softly hissing tone.

Peter put a hand out to him as he got up from the chair. "Come home with me." It was an impulsive, foolish invitation. 

It took a long moment before George placed his hand in Peter’s. The slender fingers were warm and trembling.

They both remained silent in the cab on the way to Peter’s home. The silence continued in the bedroom. It did not disturb Peter, but he worried about him. He never spoke during undressing, didn't make a sound when Peter’s hand touched his bare hip as they lay. He kissed George when he moved above him; George's body awkwardly hovered over Peter's slim frame as his hand tried to maneuver between Peter’s thighs. 

“It has been a while since I…” He let the words drift and turned his gaze away blushing. 

“You’re fine.” Peter pressed his lips to George’s, helping, guiding, and George breathed a soft, startled sigh. Very gently, Peter pressed against him, easing George onto his back. George was resistant at first but Peter didn’t relent. He peppered small kisses over George’s face, neck and shoulders, coercing with touches of comfort to his face and over his soft, plush body. With a tremble, George gave in to what Peter offered. 

**

George rolled over, still blissed out from the previous night. He sought out the warm body he thought would be next to him only to find the space empty. He sat up and looked around. Peter must have been up for a while. 

He dresses, stuffing his blue tie in his pocket, carrying his suit jacket and shoes down the carpeted stairwell. He found Peter, pouring intently through the pages of the _The Times_ sipping from a mug. He looked charming and adorable, wrapped in his dressing gown with mussed hair, and his beloved dog, Jack, curled by his feet. 

“I like seeing you when you wear your glasses,” George said, startling Peter. 

The pages of the paper rustled as Peter folded it closed. He bristled when George leaned over and kissed his forehead. 

“Last night was something else. It was disappointing waking up without you.” he said quietly pulling away from Peter. 

George smiled, searching Peter’s face for a reaction. 

“Careful what you tell yourself, dear boy.” He finally responded. “Or else you might start believing it.”

“I’m serious,” George argued, going on the defensive. “I’m not playing some sort of political mind game with you.”

Peter abruptly stood up, startling Jack the dog. The warmth and friendliness, the lust, was missing from his eyes. It hurt; George felt tears pricking in his tear ducts. 

“You shouldn’t stay where you’re not wanted.” Peter whispered. “Mistakes happen.” 

“I know.” George said after Peter retreated back upstairs. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in his nostrils.


End file.
